Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
And damn it all to hell, it produces some annoying warm fuzzies within me that he’s deliberately choosing to use it. It’s a clear message that he wants to be my friend.
“Why?” I murmur as I face him, not needing the answer but I’m curious.
He huffs out a breath as he looks off into my side yard before returning his attention to me. “I don’t have any friends. Not a single one. Wait… that might not be accurate. My teammate who came over yesterday… I could call him a friend, but that’s tenuous. The truth is, you know I’m an asshole, and it’s not been conducive to fostering relationships.”
“Want me to be the guinea pig, huh?” I jokingly say.
“Yeah,” he admits, and my smile softens at the admission. “I’d like to try to be your friend.”
And that definitely gets me in the feels. I find it absurd to be having this conversation, because truly, he’s still my enemy. He stands between me and my dreams with this property. I should give him back the bottle of wine and tell him I’ll see him in court.
But that’s not how I am. I’m willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, and maybe if he gets to know me, we might be able to negotiate a truce on the trees.
Maybe I can talk him into letting me have my driveway.
“Okay… let’s give this a try. In an attempt to explore the concept of friendship, I’d like to invite you to join me and my friends at the music festival this afternoon.”
The barest hint of a smile plays at his lips as he inclines his head. “That sounds like a good place to start.”
“I’ll even let you share my blanket,” I announce with a grin.
To my surprise, he pulls the tote off my shoulder. “I’ll carry that for you.”
Gallant, and it gives me butterflies. I want to chastise myself not to get caught up in that stuff. I want to tell myself to be careful.
In fact, I should outline the expectations as we descend the porch and head to my car. “Friendship does not mean you’re getting in my panties.”
Coen stops and wraps his fingers around my wrist, forcing me to stop as well. His tone is light, but his expression is dead serious. “I’m still getting in your panties. Tonight, as a matter of fact.”
My mouth goes dry. He’s not kidding.
And I know he’s not budging on the idea.
Just as I know if he even so much as kisses me, I’ll give in.
But I won’t admit that to him, so I pull my arm free and lift my chin. “We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will,” he promises in a low rumble, and a pang of desire hits me straight between my legs.
Laughing, he moves to my car door and opens it for me. I slide in and am painfully aware of how crappy my car is compared to what he must be used to. Sure, he drives a truck, but it’s a damn nice one with leather seats and all the bells and whistles.
I have bucket seats with cheap, threadbare upholstery, and my air conditioning only works half the time.
When Coen gets in on the passenger side, I say, “Apologies that my chariot’s probably not up to your standards.”
His head swivels and his gaze meets mine in what I recognize as censorship. “I don’t care about stuff like that.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble as I start the car. “I just stereotyped you.”
Coen shrugs. “Actually, I used to care about that stuff. But I unloaded my fancy cars when I moved here. It’s all just smoke and mirrors.”
“Doesn’t show the real you?” I guess as I pull out of my driveway.
“These days, I’m not even sure who the real me is.”
I bet that admission was hard for him, and I lead us away from any further talk of it. “Well, today I think you should just do what I plan to do. Listen to some good music, drink a few beers, eat some burgers and hot dogs, and I’ll most assuredly get sunburned at some point. It’s tradition.”
Coen laughs as he adjusts one of the AC vents, which is thankfully blowing cool air. “I assume you have sunscreen. I’ll help you put it on.”
A shiver runs up my spine at the thought of his hands on my skin. Now that’s all I can think about.
I wonder if I’ll even be able to relax enough around him to enjoy the festival, but I’m glad I invited him. If anyone needs to have some fun, it’s Coen Highsmith.
♦
I don’t know if Coen’s enjoying himself. He’s not having an awful time because his expression has been pleasant, and he joins conversations when directly posed a question. Otherwise, he’s observant and listens intently.
His quiet nature sets the tone that he doesn’t want to talk about himself, and everyone has been respecting it.